my dear Josephine, have you ever considered a man may have made those gifts with a wish to make the proprietress sweet so he could seduce her?” he asked, though it was furthest from the truth.
Never mind that Mrs. Chisholm was twice his age and produced a most disconcerting swishing sound when she walked.
But Jo was not fooled.
She raised a brow. “You expect me to believe you want to seduce Mrs. Chisholm?”
He sighed. “No, and you damned well know I do not. The only woman I want to seduce is right here in my arms, and she is talking to me about bloody pianos and orphans. Have you any idea how wilting that is for a man?”
Also a lie. Nothing could tame his raging cockstand now that she was here, close enough to kiss. And he was touching her. And her scent, floral and exotic, was punishing his senses.
“Do you know what I think, Mr. Elijah Decker?” she asked, tilting her head and studying him in a fashion that was far too thorough for his liking. “I think you did not want anyone to discover your secret.”
His ears were hot once more. Blast the woman, was she making him flush? He refused to countenance it. Elijah Decker, collector of erotic art and literature that would embarrass the most seasoned bawd, had not been put to the blush in years. And now, twice in one day?
“What secret is that?” he returned, attempting to distract her by dipping his head and bringing their mouths closer to touching. “That I want to kiss you?”
“Yes.” She blinked. “No. That you are not as coldhearted as you would have the world believe.”
“On the contrary, bijou. I do not have a heart.” He could not wait another second without tasting her lips.
If he did not kiss her, he was reasonably certain he would die. That was what it felt like, this need for her, coursing through his veins, consuming his every thought. She was all he desired. All he needed.
Decker’s mouth settled on hers. Each time he kissed her was a revelation, a discovery. He had never so thoroughly enjoyed the mere act of kissing a woman in the way he did with Jo. He could kiss her all day, worship her lips, and never grow weary of it. For her, he possessed endless patience. Endless wanting.
She responded instantly, her lips moving beneath his, opening. His sweet tyro was learning. When his tongue slid into her mouth, she sucked. Ah, fuck. His ballocks drew tighter. She was so hot and wet, and he could not keep himself from thinking what it would be like to have her mouth on his cock—to know that slick, demanding heat, to slide past those lush lips and down her throat.
He rewarded her by nipping her lower lip. By God, she was more delicious than the finest confection. Decker kissed the corners of her mouth, the delectable Cupid’s bow. His fingers slipped into her hair, and if he was plucking pins faster than a Whitechapel pickpocket relieved his victims of their coin, it could hardly be helped. He was insatiable where Lady Jo Danvers was concerned. He wanted to thieve everything she had, all of her.
He never wanted to let her go. He wanted to keep her with him, all the time. In his bed. In his house, which had never seemed so empty until the hours following her visit…
What the hell?
He would have to let her go, he reminded himself as he kissed her harder, punishing her with his lips, claiming her as his. He would have to let her go sooner than he wanted.
It was the midst of the damned day, he reminded himself. There were witnesses.
Macfie, for instance.
As if on cue, the undeniable sound of the massive Scotsman’s knuckles abusing the closed door split the moment in two. Jo pushed away from him, and Decker allowed her to go. Her eyes were wide, wild, her hair in disarray, her mouth swollen and glistening. Anyone would take a look at her and know exactly what had passed between them.
Damn.
“Mr. Decker, Mr. Levi Storm has arrived for his meeting with ye, one quarter hour early,” Macfie called.
“Damnation,” Decker muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. Of all the times for a business associate to be early…
“I… I must go,” Jo said lamely, her eyes still wide, her pupils huge obsidian discs in her honey-brown gaze.
“I will be finished here shortly,” he called to Macfie, his eyes never leaving Jo’s. To